Gemotions

The box smelled of lavender and forgotten secrets. Amelia, her breath hitched, pulled out the faded, spiral-bound notebook. Her grandmother’s handwriting, looping and familiar, greeted her. *See the Northern Lights.* *Learn to speak Spanish.* *Dance in the rain.* Amelia felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest, a feeling that clawed its way up her throat.

The bedroom, once filled with her grandmother’s laughter, now felt heavy, the air thick with memories. Her vision swam. Amelia pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself. Her fingers trembled as she turned the page, the words blurring into an incomprehensible mess.

She sank to the floor, curling into a ball, the notebook a crumpled mess in her lap. The weight of it felt unbearable. She began to rock back and forth, a low moan escaping her lips, the list a cruel reminder of all that was lost.